


Wine Bottles, Treasures and the Bravery of Thief Charming

by hurinhouse



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurinhouse/pseuds/hurinhouse
Summary: A story is only as reliable as its narrator





	Wine Bottles, Treasures and the Bravery of Thief Charming

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: For the H/C Advent 2017 at [whitecollarhc](https://whitecollarhc.dreamwidth.org/)

Once upon a time in a nearby land, there was a charming, handsome, intelligent, good-hearted Thief. He loved people, and beauty, and he wanted to do the Right Thing but he sometimes became distracted by shiny things that got him into trouble. Or by fair maidens in distress. These weaknesses led to his capture by, and indenturehood to, the Sheriff of Manhattan. 

The Sheriff was also a handsome, good-hearted man, almost as intelligent as the Thief, though fashion-challenged and not nearly as charming. But he often got sidelined into thinking the Right Thing was about following the rules of his overlords instead of about the people he wanted to protect. 

The Thief did his best to remind the Sheriff of his humanity, and the Sheriff never let the Thief forget his debt to society for breaking the oppressive laws the Sheriff had promised to uphold.

One day, while he was tirelessly out doing the Sheriff's relentless bidding, the Thief happened across a mystery while attending a wine auction with his trusted Companion. The virtuous gentlemen were followed on their way home from said auction as they carried a very expensive bottle they'd legally purchased and planned to partake in on some future special occasion. As they turned to confront their pursuer, they learned that not only was this assailant female, but she was also being stalked herself, and in fact bandits attempted to take her hostage in their carriage right in front of the Thief and his Companion. The two heroes immediately came to the fair Maiden's rescue, scaring off her assaulters and saving the day. They recognized the Maiden from the auction, where she had failed to outbid them for the bottle of sweet nectar they now owned. Though the Maiden had appeared fearful during the assault, she recovered, remarkably quickly, and offered the Thief and his Companion a large sum of money for their bottle.

Now, our champions were no fools, so of course they did not accept the overture. The Companion would have loved to have washed their hands of the woman altogether, and advised the Thief just that, but the Thief could not turn away a beautiful maiden in need. He offered her protection and though the opponents battled wits for quite a spell, the Maiden, inevitably charmed by the Thief, eventually admitted that she was the far-off descendant of a notorious deadly Pirate of prohibition from New York who had murdered over 100 people during his mob boss reign long ago. 

The Pirate had left a sizable treasure upon his death, as yet unclaimed through generatons, but the Maiden only possessed half of the clues to find it. She proposed to share the treasure with the men if they would lend their clever minds to help her decipher the clues. They agreed to a 30/30/30 split (though, being the chivalrous souls they were, the men secretly planned to donate the treasure, of course); after which the Thief, directed by the Maiden, emptied the wine of the vintage bottle (into another bottle - again, the man was no fool ) to find half of a treasure map inside, having been hidden for over eight decades. The fair Maiden, realizing she was no match for the Thief's wit, and that she'd get nowhere without their portion of the map, reluctantly shared the other half of the map, which she had maintained for years.

You may wonder at this point where the Sheriff had been in all of this. Well, the man took his job very seriously and did not deviate from the letter of the law (unless to help his wife or his dog, but we'll leave that hypocrisy for another time). Though the Thief was eager to share the information with the Sheriff, he sensed a quality in the Maiden that suggested she may have been perhaps falsely accused of some former crime or two, which would put the Sheriff in the regrettable position of having to arrest the Maiden before the matter of the treasure could be resolved. This Plausible Deniability was indeed a powerful idea. Since the Thief selflessly hoped to ensure that any descendants of the victims of the deadly Pirate were properly compensated for the deaths of their ancestors, he kept the matter under his hat in the pure attempt to preserve a piece of historic significance.

The map led the Thief, his Companion, and the Maiden to the entrance of the ancient secret underground tunnels beneath the city. The Companion, feeling a sixth sense of danger creep upon him - possibly about aliens or Hitler clones underground - suggested to the Thief that they refrain from entering the tunnels, go back again another day without the Maiden. But the Thief insisted on seeing the noble mission through, so the Companion bid him adieu as the Thief and the Maiden crept into the tunnels. 

Filthy, dark and damp, the tunnels were cold as the pair picked their way along, preserving their limited light as best they could. The Maiden followed the Thief as his well-honed instincts led them clue by clue toward the treasure. Now and again, the Thief thought he heard footsteps far behind them, but when they stopped, so did they and he realized they must merely be echoes of his and the Maiden's own shoes.

Down down down the tunnels they inched, darker and more foreboding as they descended. They passed numerous corridors and side tunnels, alcoves and ladders, and the Thief made note of each of them in his head. As they rounded toward the final clue, the Maiden shined her light on the walled recess that the map's X represented while the Thief dug with his bare hands into the clay. Eventually, his hands hit the encouraging feel of metal, driving his efforts anew. Pushing and pulling, rotating and pivoting, the Thief pulled out a steel strongbox. 

Striking the front of the box against the wall of the tunnel, the Thief was able to break the lock and hold it in his hand as he opened the box. He was met with the glittering glow of the treasure. Stacks of decades old thousand dollar bills and bonds were surrounded by gold coins and jewels, shining brilliantly by the light in the fair Maiden's hand. It had been some time since the Thief had seen so much wealth at once, and he was mesmerized; which is why he missed the footsteps behind him of the Maiden's original attackers on the street only hours before. What's worse... the men carried guns. If there was one thing the Thief did not like, it was guns. And deviled ham. 

He slammed the box closed and pushed the Maiden behind him, shielding her from the assailants. The men began to laugh as the Maiden walked around from behind him and joined the gunned men to stand off against him, weapons raised higher. _So that's the way it's going to be,_ the Thief thought. Well, these bandits were only able to get down there by following the Thief. He decided to let them try their hands at finding their way back up without him.

He threw the lock at the man in the middle and ran, hugging the box to his chest. Gunshots rang out behind him as he zigzagged along the tunnels away from their lights. The erratic misdirection slowed him down but he was faster than most to begin with. He'd always kept himself in excellent shape just for this purpose and running was one of his best skills. 

Just as he got to his first turn, he felt a fire pass through his shoulder and he stumbled, almost dropping the box. But he pivoted around the corner and got back to his feet, ducking through one of the corridors he'd noticed on their way down and then down that side tunnel and up one of the ladders. He could hear the bandits and the Maiden far off, looking in the wrong direction, but he was having trouble breathing and he was slowing down. He kept ducking down side tunnels and climbing more ladders, his hands becoming slick from the blood he kept wiping from his soaking shirt. 

He started seeing a bright narrow light above him and he knew his time was almost up but he didn't want to die down in the tunnels. He would have liked his Companion to bury him in a platinum casket with a string quartet playing, maybe have them serve a nice Shiraz and have the Sheriff say nice things at his funeral. He could hear his voice now, calling out his name, probably speaking of how fortunate he was to have had the Thief work for him as long as he did. 

The closer the Thief got to the light, the more he slowed, and the louder the Sheriff's eulogy became. The Thief clung weakly to the ladder, unable to climb any higher. They would just have to forego the casket and if he was honest, he was about tired of hearing the Sheriff yell at him at this point anyway. Lightheaded and about to fall, the world was ripped open above him and the light assaulted him from all sides. Before he lost his grip on the world, he saw a vision of the frantic Sheriff looking down at him from the sky.

"Neal!"

~ ~ ~

Neal woke, stretched as much as his pain tolerance, and slinged shoulder, allowed. 

"Hey Buddy, you get to go home today." Peter used the foot pedals to prop Neal higher in the bed. 

"Not soon enough. Not sure why that didn't happen yesterday."

"Just precaution."

"So Dutch Schultz's great granddaughter?"

The cool water Peter passed him was the best thing Neal had tasted in a long time. He'd slept enough the last two days that his mouth was perpetually full of cotton.

"She and her accomplices are being arraigned tomorrow. Conspiracy, attempted murder. They'll be spending a lot of time in orange jumpsuits."

"They could have had it all legitimately if they hadn't tried to kill me."

"Yep." Peter stood, pushed the chair back to the wall, looking at Neal fondly. "I'll be back after my meeting. Need anything before I go?"

"No. Peter? Thanks for finding me."

"Thank Moz, for alerting us as quickly as he did. And your anklet, of course."

"Of course."

"By the way, your report... you didn't include where you stashed Schultz's strongbox on your way out of the old subway tunnel. Must have slipped your mind."

"Peter, I was delirious and dying. There was no stashing. I just dropped it."

"Ah, right. No problem. We'll go look for it together when you get back on your feet. Paperwork and the van till then."

"It's probably only temporary amnesia. I might be able to remember if I think hard enough."

"Thought you might. Speaking of paperwork, you'll have to rewrite your report. Fairy Tales don't go into the case files, Thief Charming."

"Peeeeeter. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Must have lost it working for those oppressive overlords all these years."

**Author's Note:**

> Dutch Schultz actually was a mob boss in the 30s who left a map to a strongbox holding the items included in this story, though I hear it's buried somewhere upstate rather than in Manhattan.


End file.
